


Always Leaving

by MurphysLaw



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 03, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4194435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurphysLaw/pseuds/MurphysLaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam thinks he's going crazy. It may have something to do with his conversations with cats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Leaving

We'll be leaving. We never stay in the same place for long.

Been like that my whole life. Longest was at Stanford. That's a college, if you don't know. I don't see how you would. But you've surprised me before.

I had a nice life there. And a girlfriend- she was going to become my fiancée. If she said yes, of course. I've still got the ring. Sometimes I take it out and just look at it. She would still be alive if I wasn't so selfish.

You know, I don't think she would even say yes if she could see me know. The things I've done. She never knew this side of me. Maybe that just means she didn't know the real me. But how could I show her _this_?

There's no point crying over it, at least that's what Dean would say. That life went up in flames a long time ago.

Sorry. I didn't mean to get so heavy. You probably want me to leave so you can finish your meal in peace. Well, that's what you get when you eat on me.

Actually, it's more than. It's like, you're the first person I felt like I could talk to in a long time. Too long. Maybe my whole life. You have no plans for me, or expect me to be someone who I'm not. No façade around you. All you care about is the food leave out for you and the occasional petting. I'm not complaining.

Look, even now when I'm laying all my deep shit on you, you're just cleaning yourself. That's what I like about you. You don't give a shit about anyone. Not even Ruby.

I read somewhere animals are more perspective of the supernatural. You can probably sense she's not a human. Just a twisted soul, bent and broken and turned wrong.

That makes me wonder why you're still around me. I'm not human. At least not fully. Less and less as the days go.

I lie to myself. Say it doesn't matter because I'm saving people. That's all I wanted to do: help people. But now it doesn't seem to matter. Every time I look in the mirrors I can see myself becoming a monster. And I won't do anything to stop it. Because I need to get Dean back.

And because the times I feel most alive- most _human_ \- is when I'm furthest away from it. A sick twist of fate isn't it?

It was funny, when you first came swaggering in, demanding food even though you didn't know me. Luckily for you, I'm soft hearted. Dean always teased me about it. Called me a girl; not that's there anything wrong with being a girl. After you finished that tuna sandwich which I'm pretty sure had been hanging around the Impala since time began, you rubbed up close to my leg, and I bent down. I got a glimpse of your tags. I laughed at the name on it: Dean.

First time I laughed in ages.

First time I laughed since he died.

Maybe that's why I don't want to leave you. And why I went out and brought the best quality cat food I could find with a bit of help from the five finger discount. It doesn't matter how much I want you to stay I will never be able to afford those fancy $10 a can crap that is really just the bits nobody else wants. Plus Dean would pitch a fit. _Would've_ pitch a fit.

It's hard, to remember to refer to him in the past tense.

It's strange just to think of him as- as- It's just weird. I always thought I'll be the first to go. Even when I left, Dean was always going to outlive me. Because he's my older brother. Always looked after me, even when I didn't deserve it. And I would try and do anything to please him.

Used to sit outside motel rooms while he fucked some pretty girl into the mattress, and I used to jealous. Not because of the fucking or anything. I guess animals aren't as bothered about those things. But for a while I thought he liked this random pretty faced girls more than me. When I told him this though, he was appalled.

After that, he always made sure I knew how much more important I was than them. Because that's what big brothers do. They save your life, whatever the cost. Even if you wished they didn't.

You would of liked Dean. He wouldn't like you though; he's allergic to cats. Be sneezing up a storm right now. Sometimes I look at you and I see him. His green eyes, bright and alive. Blonde hair catching the sunlight. Leaning over the Impala, twiddling with her parts. Singing out of tune to AC/DC tapes.

I know you're not him reincarnated or anything. He's in... he'sinhell. It feels better to get that out. Not that better though. Not enough to make it ok. He died in- he died in my arms. And was dragged their kicking and screaming.

Put up a hell of a fight. Because Dean wouldn't go anywhere he didn't want to without putting up a fight. And I couldn't even help him.

I wasn't strong enough to save him. No matter how hard I try, it will never be enough.

I'm the let down. The youngest son. And I don't know what Dean saw in me to sacrifice himself. I just pray this wasn't some sort of obligation he was full filling to our dad, when he promised to look after me.

But then again, he promised to kill me, and he's done the exact opposite.

Do you want to come up? There, is that better? Ow! Stop digging your claws into my skin. Settle down. Oh, right. You don't like my gun do you? It's fine. See, I'm removing it. Look, it's on the table now.

Do you remember when you first saw it? I doubt you'll forget it. I had it pressed against my head. When I close my eyes, I can still feel the cool kiss of metal against my skin, singing the songs of promise.

Hell with Dean seems better than Earth without him.

But you meowed. And I couldn't blow my brains out with someone watching. It just doesn't seem right.

Plus, I know you'll eat my guts afterwards. And how can I got to hell and tell Dean that?

Actually, how can I tell Dean I killed myself. After what he did. That's just cruel. Makes me seem ungrateful. Like the little bitch he always calls me.

And now I doubly can't. Because you need me. Though you probably have other nicer homes you scrounge out, with people who own the houses not just "borrowing". That's what Dean called it when we were young so it wouldn't feel like we were squatting. That was for me. He didn't care about these things, but I did.

Maybe I'm just not ready. Not while Deans still down there, and demons are still walking the earth.

Ruby was what stopped me before. Yes, I'm talking about _her_. I never know what to call her. I would like to say girlfriend, but a Winchester with a demon? My family would roll in their graves... if we buried our dead, not burned them. More like a business deal with benefits.

Though it's more beneficial for her. I'm not bothered about the fucking. I just do it because she wants to.

It's sad. She's a mother fucking demon who likes to sacrifice virgins and the only other person I talk to. Well, except for you. At least she has the decency to answer back. Even if it's to tell me to stop bitchin'.

Before she came, just after Dean died, I was drinking to myself to death, going on suicide hunts. And nothing worked. And then all these demons turned up in my motel room and I thought ' _finally_ ', I was ready and she just killed them. Then thinks I should be all grateful to her.

But she gave me purpose. A reason to wake up in the evenings. Sometimes, that still doesn't matter.

If I could- if I was in control of the hurricane of shit that is my life- I would stay here. With you.

But I've never been in control, and at the end of the dead, it's just easier to go along with it.

Do you dream? Chase mice in your sleep? Or relax in the sun? Maybe getting all the girls?

I wish mine were like yours.

Ever since I died- God, that's weird to say- I've had these dreams. I think they're of hell.

Mostly because of Meg.

She isn't in a meat suit. Which is good, because I was the last one she wore and that was horrible. But that's a story for another day. I knew it was her. She had this... feeling. And she smiled this grin dripped in the blood of a thousand screaming souls and said she wanted this for a long time. And then she hurt me.

But hurt doesn't even begin to cover it. There is no way to describe it. More than you could ever possibly imagine while mortal.

After these, when I wake up, I'm always crying. Not because of the pain. I deserve the pain. No, because I know, if that really _is_ hell, that Dean is going through that right now. And I'm stuck up here doing nothing.

Better than my other dreams. Those are like my visions. The stupid visions I get all the time, and I can't stop them. Like someone is drilling into my skull. I wake up with my head splitting open, worse than the worse hangover ever. Except these defiantly aren't the future.

Because they're of an accountant saving my brother from hell. A fucking winged accountant. I think I'm going to crazy.

Ruby says they are from drinking too much. But drinking too much of what? Because I'm pretty sure chronic liver failure doesn't have that effect. Not that I'm an expert or anything.

Look, I know you probably have other houses to go to- you probably don't even understand me- but I don't want to be alone. Can you stay? For a while? Just till I fall asleep? Just till I end up in one of my crazy dreams?

*

Dean- the cat, not the soul currently screaming in hell for his brother- stood up on the sleeping human, shaking the big hand off him. He stretched his back archly. Sharp claws dug into the humans leg but no cry of pain followed: he was fast asleep.

Properly asleep as well. Dean had never seen this human sleeping without tossing and moaning from a nightmare.

A smell wafted his way, and he was about to follow it. First though, he took a moment to lick the humans large hand. Almost as if he could take the silent pain away with his little pink tongue.

And it was a goodbye. He knew the human was going away. Next time he comes, this room would just be empty. Only hold an echo of this man soon to be imprinted over with other echoes. Happy, sad, but not as broken.

Nimbly, he jumped off the lap and began to follow his twitching nose.

He was going to miss him but he didn't look back.

He never looks back.


End file.
